Neville Longbottom and the Sorcerer's Scone
by Annetterz
Summary: In the fifth book, Harry speculated, briefly, what it would be like if Voldemort had chosen to kill Neville and not Harry. Well, this is that story. Please R&R.
1. The Boy Who Lived to Tell the Tale

Neville Longbottom and the Sorcerer's Scone

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. If I _did _say they were mine, I would probably be accused of playdeurism and possibly get arrested. …_can_ you get arrested for that?

Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived to Tell the Tale (Even Though He Couldn't Talk)

Neville Longbottom would have been an ordinary boy.

That is, if you call being a pure-blood wizard normal. I suppose you would have to be a wizard to call that normal, or otherwise very, very gullible. If you believed in magic, that is.

Anyway, the point is, Neville Longbottom would have been an ordinary _wizard_ boy, by _wizarding _standards. He was born to a respectable (by wizarding standards—the Muggles always cast disapproving glances and remarks at them about the way they dressed) witch mother and wizard father, and they loved their little tiny son dearly, even though he couldn't talk. But that is to be expected, even for a little wizard chap.

Then Neville's little one-year-old-no-talking world was turned upside down. The event that happened was so huge, his world must have been turned upside down three times. It was just that enormous.

The event was that an evil man by the name of Baldymort had to come and destroy everything that little Nevvly loved and cared for and held onto closely (most of the reasons _why_ he did not fully understand; only that they fed him). Baldymort had not known his own parents, so how could he have done such a thing as this? Perhaps to make somebody else know his pain? Not a soul knows. Neville doesn't know. You don't know. **I** don't even know, and I am writing this story, for God's sake. Anyway, Baldymort (that's not his real name; he changed his name from Tom Spittle to Blaldymort) had to go and just kill off Neville's parents, leaving him in the care of his old Gran, who loved him and cared for him, but was a bit controlling and smelled faintly of vulture (although you shouldn't ask me as to how I know what a vulture smells like, but I'm sure that if I ever were to come across a vulture, that's what it would smell like). But I am getting ahead of myself.

Baldymort turned his wand on Neville as the final act of bloodiness. And just as he was about to give the final blow—

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

It wasn't like he was stopping himself because of self-revulsion. Dear Lordy Lord, no. Why would he? He was Baldymort, and nobody survived once he set his sights on 'em. But something stopped him. And he nearly died.

Nearly.

So Neville somehow made his way to his dear Gran's (although not on his own, of course) and they lived happily ever after.

Right?

Well, technically I'm supposed to say right, but that wouldn't be right. Saying right would be wrong? Right? Right. So I'll say it.

Wrong.

Neville grew up into a dashing young lad and was admired by all witchy's and wiz'z, and when he reached the age of eleven, he said "iHasta la vista!" to his Gran and kissed her vulturely cheek good-bye to leave for Hogshorts School for Kids Who Wanna Make Banging Noises with Sticks.

"iHasta la vista, Gran!" Strapping Dashing Neville said to his grandmother as he kissed her vulturely cheek good-bye. "I'm off to learn how to make banging noises with a stick at Hogwarts!"

"Good bye, dear," Gran sighed. "Have fun, and remember to always hold good posture before making your bang with a stick."

"Will do, Granny-o," Nevvly said cheerfully, as he hopped onto the train.

Let us pause our story for the moment. Neville is about to embark on the greatest adventure of his life as he goes to Hogshorts School for Kids Who Wanna Make Banging Noises with Sticks. He is about to meet Ronny Weezler and Henry Manger, who will become his bestest friends of all time. He will also meet a clumsy, blubbering idiot, who he will still learn to love. But for now, we must stop the story, because I think keeping a movie on pause for too long is bad for the VCR or something.

Post Note: Hahahahahahah. So how do you like it? I am so random… please READ AND REVIEW!!!!!!!! I really want to hear your feedback. Bye byez, and remember, YAYZ I'M A MUSHROOM!


	2. The Hogshorts Express Ride

Neville Longbottom and the Sorcerer's Scone

A/N: YAYZ! I GOT A REVIEW! THANK YOU, harryxpotterxforxever! Yes, I know I am sooo random because I am me and you are you and we are we and "I am here as you are here as you are me and we are all together" (-The Beatles). See, that's a prime example of it… I love that Beatle's song… oh, before I forget: anyone who has asthma who is reading this, please don't be offended by this chapter. I'm not meaning to make fun of anyone who has asthma. Seriously, I have asthma too, so… anyway, to the story.

Chapter Two: The Hogshorts Express Ride

Neville Longbottom lugged all his stuff down to the luggage cart and left to find a compartment, taking his owl Hedwig with him, whom he had gotten in Diagon Alley. People whispered around him when he passed, because he was Strapping Dashing Neville, the Boy Who Lived to Tell the Tale (and Who Now Could Talk). He whistled a little tune as he trotted down the aisle. Peeking into a compartment, he saw that it was empty save for a redheaded boy who was holding an instrument that he could not quite identify (because it was a Muggle instrument, most commonly known as the inhaler). Strapping Dashing Neville walked in just as the chap was taking a puff on his inhaler. Seeing Neville made him choke on the asthma medicine. Coughing and spluttering, little Red stared at Neville. "Merlin's shorts! You're Neville Longbottom! Uh—uh—I'm—what I mean to say is—"

Neville ignored his chatter out of sympathy for the poor lad. "May I sit here?" he asked politely.

"Uh—uh—uh—" Red stammered. "Y-yak. I mean yes."

"Excellent," Strapping Dashing Neville said, and sat down across from Red. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Uh, uh, uh, Ronny Weezler," Ronny Weezler said, taking a puff on his inhaler. "Sorry, I have asthma… I have to keep doing that."

"What _is_ that thing, anyway?" Neville asked curiously.

"It's my—my inhaler," Ronny said. "My dad works with Muggle stuff, so he told my mum to try using this instead of the spells and stuff… it's a Muggle thing."

"I…see," Neville said, though not really seeing at all.

There was an awkward pause.

"How about them Chudly Cannons?" Ronny blurted out.

Harrie Snotter was in panic.

He had lost his toad Trevor once again, and he could not find it anywhere.

He had looked under every compartment seat and searched and searched and searched until he could not search anymore. Because, well, it was failing. He had failed.

Again.

Harrie Snotter had never been a very successful boy. He was forgetful, clumsy, late, clumsy, sickly, clumsy, lost most everything he owned, clumsy, and was nothing like Strapping Dashing Neville.

And he was clumsy. Did I mention that?

His glasses were askew. He always forgot to let the cat out. He was late for dinner.

But still his parents loved him. How could they not? He was their son, and they were his parents, and that, reader, is a bond that can never be broken.

Unless you were Tom Spittle, who had the heart about the size of a nickel.

In the course of the day, Harrie had already gone through two wands by accidentally snapping them, lost Trevor six times, and ran into the wrong barrier for Platform 9 and ¾ of ¾ and… well, you can guess what happened then.

And now it was the seventh time that he had lost Trevor.

He straightened his glasses and headed for a compartment. The very compartment, reader, that Ronny Weezler and Strapping Dashing Neville were in. Their destinies were about to cross.

But honestly, how many times have you read THAT phrase before in every typical fantasy?

Post Note: Yes, sorry it's so short. You must give me credit that I'm adding this chapter the day after I actually started the story. Just kidding, you don't have to give me credit, but I'm not kidding about the day-after bit. Yeah. So this is my farewell for now, readers. Please R&R, and remember, "before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, you'll be a mile away from them, and you'll have their shoes!" –_Internet; Someone That I Do Not Know_


	3. Destinies Crossed Oh How Generic

A/N: Helloz to all you little reading chums out there! Out of my great selflessness (okay, maybe not that, but anyway) I have added TWO CHAPTERS in ONE DAY. I'm getting the feel that I really, really enjoy writing this story. I've been getting some reviews, which I am very happy about! BTW, somebody sent me a review that said that my story was 'weird'. Well, then, you know what I am like. Weird. Almost to the point of insanity. It made me laugh when the person sent that though, because I am insane and I laugh at my own insanity. Hahahahahahah. Anyway, I'll shut up now and get to the story.

Chapter Three: Destinies Crossed (Oh How Generic)

The compartment door opened just as Strapping Dashing Neville and Ronny Weezler were having a laugh (about how odd it was that Berty Botts Every Flavor Beans was now awarding the wizarding world with a complimentary pair of Every Color Socks with every package—Ronny was laughing so hard that he had to take his inhaler) and in walked the Not So Strapping Dashing Harrie.

"Have you seen a toad?" Harrie said frantically as he jumped into the compartement, upending everything upendable, including Ronny.

And yet, he did not find his beloved toad.

Standing there in the compartment, Harrie Snotter felt like he had lost his best and only friend (which, in fact, he did). He was on the verge of bursting into tears.

And that is when the cloud of loneliness lifted as the sun, yes, the sun, reader, broke through and warmed his little face. For sitting on the luggage rack was Trevor.

"TREVOR!" he screeched, almost bursting with triumph and happiness as he leapt up onto the luggage rack in an attempt to reclaim his captive.

But alas, reader, the toad leapt away in a frantic instinctual bid for freedom and Harrie raced after him.

Ronny shrugged while taking another puff on his inhaler. Strapping Dashing Neville gave his head a shake and shoved a Chocolate Frogger in his mouth, a very not strapping or dashing gesture. Ronny, determined to please, followed suit in perfect imitation of his idol and the idol of every magical organism in the entire world.

Yes, Strapping Dashing Nevvly and Ronny the Sickly were on a roll.

Meanwhile, tragedy had struck for poor Harrie Snotter.

As he chased his escaped hostage, no other thought was in his head but to finally reclaim his beloved pet.

Unfortunately for both of them, Trevor had other plans.

In a last desperate bid for freedom, Trevor leapt off the luggage rack and Harrie followed suit. The world went into a sudden slo-mo moment, readers, and as Trevor hit the ground, Harrie's shadow appeared over him, as if in a cartoon where a character is about to be crushed with a giant cinderblock and still be alive.

And Harrie, feeling victory, did not realize his fatal mistake.

He landed right on top of his toad, and the toad splattered all over the floor.

But no! Lo and behold, Trevor the Terrific had leapt away just in time and into the lap of the only girl in the compartment, who looked down with a mixture of exasperation and disgust.

Harrie lay face down on the floor, barely daring to breath. But when he did slowly look up, he came upon the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on (besides Trevor).

It was a girl. A girl with bushy brown hair and buckteeth. A girl with a book in her lap and an intellect that could barely be kept inside her head.

A girl who did not feel the same about him. And alas, Harrie knew this.

"H-h-hello, er, my name is, uh, well, my name's Hecky. I mean Horsey. I mean… Harrie."

"Harrie…?" she asked indirectly for his last name, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"Harrie Hotter (Harrie had fumbled his words again, but wished that what he had said was his real name for two reasons; one, because his real last name was more embarrassing than words could describe; two, because the girl standing before him was so "gorgeous".). I mean Rotter. I mean… Snotter." He said the last and truest word the quietest. However, if he knew her name, he would have felt better.

The girl didn't look disgusted now. She looked positively revolted.

Neville and Ronny were having a blast.

Forgeting all about the incident with Harrie Snotter (who they were horribly naïve to their cross of destinies (oh how generic)), they happily gave themselves over to the gluttony of devouring the Sweet Trolley.

And Neville had no idea of what was to come.

He had no idea that this first year of Hogshorts School for Kids Who Wanna Make Banging Noises With Sticks would unfold to be a tumult of mysterious events that he would be thrown right into. And he did not know about the Sorcerer's Scone.

But he would. Yes, reader, he'd know.

But not now. Not quite yet.

Soon. Soon.


	4. Meet Hangrer and Master Tumblewindere

A/N: listening to "Noel, que du bonheur" by Ilona Mitrecey eEp! Sorry for not updating in a while. I'd been out of the country for a week (no lie), and then I said, "Hmm, I should probably update on this story," but lazy Kiryu was procrastinating. So, here it is. Read and enjoy, and please, review!

Chapter Four: Meet Hangrer and Master Tumblewindere

The train ride was getting boring for the two most strapping lads in the soon-to-be students of Hogshorts School for Kids Who Wanna Make Banging Noises with Sticks. Ronny Weezler and Strapping Dashing Neville were practically drooling by the end, until Ronny, looking up from rummaging around in his bag for his inhaler, spotted—lo! the castle of Hogshorts School for Kids Who Wanna Make Banging Noises with Sticks!

"Y-YOUR MAGESTY! YOUR GRACEFULNESS OF MISTER NEVVLY! WAKE UP!" Ronny Weezler began shaking Neville quite forcefully. Psh. If Strapping Dashing Nevvly's bodyguards had been there, they would have removed the offending personage from Neville, gently dusted him off with a gold hankie, and beat the offender to a mushy, weezing pulp. Alas, this was not to happen.

"Don't call me Magesty, or any other of that other nonsense," Neville said crossly. "My name is Neville. Anyway, what are you going on about?"

"It's—it's Hogshorts, Neville!" Ronny stuttered. "We've arrived."

"About bloody time!" Neville grumbled as the two youngsters mashed their faces forcibly against the train window in an attempt to catch a glimpse of only the best school on the face of the whole bloody world.

Shortly after, all the students were descending the train steps onto the platform of Hogshorts Station. The first thing that the first year's bulging eyes fell upon was the large, beastly profile of none other than Hangrer! Hangrer, the scorekeeper for Hogshorts! Hangrer, the great boar of a man, abandoned by his jerkish parents and raised by the bears, who was going to escort the new recruits to the Hogshorts team to the headquarters of their kind, the magical kind of people, who are way better than those stupid Smuggleys, who think that by inventing a virtual game played with controllers on screens, they have created magic! HA! With _real_ magic, you could place yourself _inside_ the game, itself! Yes, Hangrer knows of this wonderfulness, and so do his fellow faculty members. But before they can even begin to pass into this fortress, Hangrer must give them a talkin' too. He must sniff out the selfish, unworthy little jerkfaces that he knows are in every group. The bears had taught him that. He would honor the tradition. He had too. He was ready.

So he opened his ferocious maw and bellowed, "FIRST YEARS, GET OVER HERE, YOU LITTLE IMPS, OR SO HELP ME GOD, I WILL STRIKE YOU WITH MY BEARISH CLAWS!"

Of course, the first years hurried over and gathered round. Nevvly and Ronnie were in the front. The girl of Harrie Snotter's dreams was in the middle of the crowd. Harrie tried to continue his pursuit of this beautiful creature, but of course was pushed back into the crowd by those lousy CENSORED that Hangrer would soon sniff out.

Hangrer surveyed the crowd of little ducks with cold eyes. He would not show his soft side until all the little Beelzebub's were exterminated. No bullying diseases would be spread among the Gabrielles. _God,_ Hangrer thought with a sense of pride, _will reward me tonight._ The more human side of Hangrer was very religious.

"All right, you little potential hellians, listen up. You are about to step into the most awesome place on earth, so you better shut up and pay attention. First of all, there will be no prank-pulling. Only once has this ever happened in the history of Hogshorts. A stupid kid who'd gone too far caused that episode. We all remember him, except not so fondly. Second of all, there will be no talking in class. I think _that_ can speak for itself. And… well, there's a bunch of other rules that I can't rightly remember off the top of my head right now, but basically, they all say not to let all hell break loose in class or otherwise. And uh… who here hates bears?"

A bold, slick, blond-haired boy raised his hand. His name was Dracy Malcintosh.

"Get up here, boy," Hangrer growled.

Dracy sauntered up to the front with his ever-present swagger. He does it all the time, so maybe you should get used to it 8.

"Turn around," Hangrer snarled when the boy got up to the front.

Malcintosh's facial expression changed slightly from smugness to bewilderment. He didn't move.

Hangrer turned him around himself and Malcentosh felt Hangrer's boot connect painfully with his slick arse.

"Now get back to the back of the crowd," Hangrer said as the boy took the Walk of Shame, clutching his stinging heiny all the way back. "And you've got too much gel on that slick head of yours," Hangrer added to the back of Dracy's overly-gelled head.

Hangrer turned his gaze back to the stunned first years, who cringed visibly. "Now let's get a move on." He said in what he assumed was a kind, humanly voice, but was really more of a growl.

The first years, not wanting to be the next victim, hastily followed Hangrer.

A/N: Heheheheh. Hope you like it. Oh, BTW, about this: 8. That's an angry face, in case you didn't know ;;.


	5. The Inevitable and Quite Embarrassing

Author's Note: Ok, guys, I'm soooooooo terrible. I really have been awful with this, as I usually am. Sorry.

Chapter 5: The Inevitable and Quite Embarrassing First Year Dance

All the first years filed into the Great Hall of Hogshorts, dripping wet after a terrifying ride on the backs of bears (and, for some unfortunate first years, Hangrer). Hangrer had called upon them and they came crashing through the woods. He had thrown the little kiddies on the bears and they plunged into the water and were off.

But what could be more terrifying than bears as a line of teachers at the front of the hall and the swarm of older students, looking at them, sizing them up. _Probably wondering how many bites it would take to eat us, _Neville thought.

The first years followed Hangrer to the front of the Hall, and a very aged wizard stood up and grinned in what he thought must be a very endearing and warm way, but really freaked most of the fragile dears before him out.

"Welcome, children!" Professor Tumblewinder said, beaming at all of them. "We have food, drinks, beds, and knowledge for all of you. But first, we must decide what Houses you shall go into: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin!

"The way we decide the house is very simple, yet Quite Embarassing and Inevitable." Tumblewinder ran, quite spryly for his age, over to an old and quite decrepit gramophone, which he put a record on. Obnoxious music began to play loudly. The older students all groaned.

"_All right, listen up everybody! It's time to do the Inevitable and Quite Embarrassing First Year Dance! I'll tell you what to do and you go on and do it, and then you'll be Sorted into the Houses!" _The music screamed from the gramophone. The first years jumped.

"_Now y'all gonna get in a line and jump up and down!"_

The first years scrambled to follow the directions.

"_Now y'all do the Charlie Brown!"_

The first years began to feel quite foolish.

"_Now y'all do the Worm! Now y'all Mob Dance! Now y'all count to ten! Now in Spanish! Now in French! Now in Tumblewinder!"_

The first years stopped, confused.. Tumblewinder cried out, "FIDGET! ELEVENTY-TWO! ODDMENT! SEAL FUR! BEARD! TWEEZER! SHAMBLES! NUBIA! YAK! JAM!"

"_Now y'all do this! Now y'all do that! Now y'all improvise! Now y'all—"_

The first years did this foolish and embarrassing dance, and it drowned on and on for 7 and ½ minutes. Finally, the music stopped and they all stopped dancing, panting.

"Ok, ok, here is your housing list." Tumblewinder waved it in their faces. "I will call your name and you will go to your designated House table. First off—"

"So what was the dance for?" A brave soul of a first year yelled out.

Tumblewinder grinned. "Excersize."

Several first years burst into tears.

Soon, they were all sorted into Houses (Ronny, Harrie, Neville, and the girl that Harrie had a crush on were all in Gryffindor) and had a wonderful meal, and were scared the hell out of when the ghosts appeared. And so the day ended for the students of Hogshorts, and the sleepy first years were carted off to the dormitories, and soon they were in their beds, warm and snug and fast asleep. Neville thought about the day briefly before drifting off, but mostly he speculated on what tomorrow would bring.

A/N: Okay, guys, I HATE this chapter. I think it's obnoxious and annoying and I just hate it and I promise you that it'll get better. Sorry. I'm going to put it on anyway because I haven't written in a while and… yeah, that's one of my problems. Please review, however, and if you could give me some ideas for the next chapter, that would be sooooo awesome. BYE!


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